A Thousand Roads to Nowhere
by AetheriusStorm
Summary: "My life is rarely without … happenings. Being run down in the street in front of my home was a new one for me though. It was an event that would change my life forever, introducing me to new friends and some old ones too. Also, giant alien robots that want to take over the universe suddenly seem to have a predominant presence in my life." HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

"My life is rarely without … happenings. Being run down in the street in front of my home was a new one for me though. It was an event that would change my life forever, introducing me to new friends and some old ones too. Also, giant alien robots that want to take over the universe suddenly seem to have a predominant presence in my life."

 **This story is rated for violence and coarse language. If you don't like it that's fine, but considering the language used in the films I think we should be good. This is just, you know, a warning. There will be swears and there will be violence. Obviously. It's Transformers,** **isn't it?**

 **Disclaimer: Fanfiction is just that; works of fiction based on a pre-existing fandom. If I made money doing this I would probably put a lot more time and effort in. It's just for fun people!**

 **If you see an error feel free to point it out. I won't be insulted, I swear. Even if you spot twenty errors... well, in that case I'd really like to know about them.**

 **This takes place in the first Transformers movie. And it could quite literally go anywhere.**

 **0o0o0o0**

 **Chapter 1**

It's Saturday night. I'd just finished my ten hour shift at the local café and to be honest it would've been a relief to get off of my feet. But I'd already done two trips up to my apartment on the third-floor with armloads of shopping and I was about to head back down for the third. The tight black shoes I had to wear for work were beginning to rub on my heels and cause an ache in my right knee.

I stepped off the last step and brushed through the doors, gasping as a chill wind hit me from outside. The air was damp, filled with moisture. I lingered on the threshold, admitting to myself that I was absolutely pathetic when it came to the cold before debating on the merits of leaving the rest of the bags in the car. But then I figured that my milk and ice cream weren't going to last the night out there and begrudgingly I stepped away from the doors and onto the sidewalk. The moment I did a large water droplet fell from the sky and collided with the side of my nose. I grumbled, knowing the sky had waited for this exact moment to start throwing rain drops again. It must have taken a short break while I was walking upstairs last time.

There was a puddle on the road, the water gathered against the kerb and I grimaced as I stepped down into it, not seeing it in the dark. The water soaked through the side of my shoes and I hoped it would dry out by tomorrow otherwise they'd be damp and smell musty for my Sunday afternoon shift. I checked both ways even though it was a quiet street that time of night, though most people used it as a shortcut during peak hour. There wasn't really much point in checking as my apartment block was right on the corner and you couldn't see anything coming from that way. I suppose it was just a force of habit.

I cut across that road at an angle as my car was parked a little further along. I opened the back door and grabbed the bags. While I was at it my phone flashed and I realised that I left it up front. I reached through and grabbed it, shoving it in the waistband of my skirt, not bothering to check who was sending me messages. I slammed the car door and pressed the button on the keys. The lights flashed once and my beautiful car was about as safe as a car parked on the side of the street can be. It was a pretty cute little SUV and I hoped that its nondescript appearance would make it less of a target to thieves or vandals.

I walked around the bumper, did a fleeting check both ways and made a beeline straight for the apartment block doors. All would have been well and good but the cheap plastic bag my milk bottle was in tore through the bottom. I whirled and attempted to stop the bottle rolling away with my foot. All that really achieved was having my glasses fall off the top of my head. I panicked then; they were wickedly expensive prescription glasses and the only pair I possessed.

I hurriedly dumped the other bags in a pile and grabbed my glasses and jammed them on my nose, blinking rapidly as a large smudge obscured my vision. I still wasn't used to wearing the silly things. My first problem solved I chased after my escaping bottle of milk which was rapidly rolling towards the other parked cars. I snatched it up as it rolled to a stop against Mister Matherson's lovely old Cadillac's tyre. I jammed the freezing bottle of milk under my arm and stooped to grab the rest of my bags once again.

It never once occurred to me that I was still standing smack-bang in the centre of the street.

I heard a squeal of tyres first. I recall thinking that the resonance among the buildings was playing a trick on my because the car sounded like it was almost right on top of me yet the engine wasn't roaring in my ears like one would have expected. Every thought went right out of my head when the lights flashed directly over me and I glanced up to see a sleek silver car taking the sharp corner sideways and at a fair rate of knots. The driver couldn't have been expecting it to be so wet but the street itself was downhill from the main suburb and this was where all the water went.

There was no way I was going to be able to get out of the way, no way I could run forwards or backwards or anywhere really. My mind whirled at a million miles a minute as I stared blankly at the car skidding towards me. It turned out I didn't need to think; my body made the decision for me. Before I could even register what I was actually doing my knees bent a smidgeon before releasing and sending me into the air.

Now, I used to be quite good at sports. I could no doubt have once jumped over the car's low bonnet with a flourish. Heck, I could probably have jumped the length of the whole car once, little thing as it was. But I had let myself slip since I had finished school and was no longer forced to participate in PE. Admittedly though, things could have gone much worse than they did.

As it was my foot clipped the wheel arch and I pitched forward from what would otherwise have been a perfect leap from a standing start. My shoulder hit the other side of the bonnet as the vehicle skidded past underneath me and a moment later I was laying on my back in the middle of the road with nothing but some lovely road rash on my left forearm and a few aches. Chiefly among them my ankle, shoulder and, most importantly, my butt.

Adrenalin was pounding through my veins like some kind of crazy drug and I rolled onto my stomach in time to see the silver car whip around, overcorrecting in what was apparently a vain attempt to avoid mowing me down. The vehicles shiny silver bumper ploughed straight into the front door of my little SUV and rammed it right up the kerb and into the light post which stood resolute, despite the hammering it just received.

I had no time left for thought and I scrambled to my feet gracelessly, surging forward. Only to come to a screeching halt when the silver sports car extricated itself from the remains of my car and _stood up._

The giant car-robot- _thing_ groaned, clapping a large hand to its silver head and sitting down in the middle of the street with a grating clank that made me wince and the ground shake a little under my feet.

"What the actual _hell…"_ Shoot me now, I thought as the words slipped out of my mouth unbidden and totally unwanted. Especially when the silver robot whipped its apparently aching head around and stared at me with glowing blue eyes. It seemed to freeze for a moment before its hand dropped from its head.

"Slag," it said in a decidedly masculine and ridiculously deep voice. I may not have known the word but it was a fairly easy guess to surmise that it was a curse or expletive of some sort.

"Uh-" my mind struggled for anything rational to think or say but nothing came to mind. Instead, I took two very small but very fast steps backwards. The robot had yet to move and I debated whether or not I could make it back to the doors before it reached me. Maybe, but it would probably shoot me or something before I got there.

There was a sudden commotion from above, a myriad of lights flicking on from all directions and bathing the street in light as people awoke. It seemed ridiculous to me that it had taken people this long to react, but perhaps everything was moving a little faster than I perceived it to be. The robot's head shot up at the lights and sound coming from above and all around and it looked startled. Then its gaze refocused on me and before I could so much as squeak it had lunged forward growling 'slag it all' and wrapped its fingers around my waist.

0o0o0o0

 **Author's Note**

 **Welcome. I am AetheriusStorm, but you guys can call me Aether or Storm. I have one small rule; if I make you laugh of even smile at any point you guys owe me a review letting me know. This also goes for crying, screaming, rage fits or any other kind of emotional happenings. *wags finger* Don't be a mob of slackers haha.**

 **Thanks for reading, keep on and I hope you enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter2**

"Oh sh _it!"_ The end of my cursing came out as more of a shriek-y scream making it sound more like 'sheet' but I'm sure the cosmos got the gist of my noisemaking. After all, it's not everyday that you get snatched by a giant robot and then shoved… inside it?

All I know is that its hand wrapped around me and dragged me towards its chest and then things started shifting and moving and there was a whole lot of black and silver rushing around me, linking up, morphing and just _changing._ I couldn't see anything clearly; it was dark. But then a piece of glass shifted across before me and then warm leather slid in underneath me, supporting me. I blinked and I came to terms with the fact that the robot had changed back into a car. And I was inside it. How does one process these things!?

Instinctively I reached out and grasped the steering wheel but it wrenched to one side, tearing through my hands and forcing me to let go.

"Sit still. I'm drivin'," that same decidedly male voice declared causing me to quickly shift my feet towards the seat and away from the pedals. I folded my arms around myself and hugged my body tightly, feeling a strong chill even though the interior of the cab was almost suffocatingly warm.

What the actual _Hell_ was this thing? How can a car change into a robot and vice-versa as well as talk and, apparently, think. And its- his – voice sounded almost humanoid, despite sounding distinctly metallic as well. I mean, was that an accent? Can robots have accents?

My breathing mounted, my palms became sweaty and the road began to swim before my eyes as the car-robot- drove along by itself, the steering wheel turning, the gear stick shifting up and down and the pedals moving in and out as though being manipulated by invisible feet. The lights on the dash all swirled together in a colourful mix of pale blues and I felt distinctly sea sick, even though I had never felt that way in my life. Maybe it was another kind of nausea. Maybe I should start breathing again…

I took in a shaky breath that rattled through my ribs like a lonely ghost. I actually had to concentrate to draw in another one after that, and then another and another. All of a sudden it was like I had some kind of mental affliction that was preventing my body from operating properly. Is this some kind of panic attack?

"Don' you dare expel your bodily fluids all over mah interior," The robot-car said. I stared at the dashboard in bewilderment.

"I'm not about to piss myself," I snapped, my face flushing red at the prospect of it. I may have been scared, but I don't think I was quite at the point yet. If however the robot was to throw me out on the side of the road and point a big arsed gun at my face, well then I would be at risk of wetting myself. Wait, maybe he was talking about vomiting, because the way this guy drives, well, that was becoming a real possibility.

"Oh, cool your vents femme," he grumbled at me. I guess the robot-car could tell that I was having a small panic attack in the front seat. "I ain't gonna hurt you."

I snorted. I couldn't help it. He wasn't going to hurt me, huh?

"You ran me down in the middle of the street," I felt the need to point that small, rather significant fact out to him since he didn't seem to recall. Right on cue my ankle gave a rather obnoxious throb and my butt kindly reminded me that it was going to be a brilliant array of black and blue in the morning.

"Hey now, you were the one standin' in _the middle of the street,_ " he retorted and I gaped at… well at the dashboard since it was lit up and about the only thing making sense to me. A sudden rush of queasiness raced through me as I watched the needle on the speedometer gradually tick further upwards towards the higher end of the speed spectrum. I had already seen this guy crash once; I didn't especially want to be inside when it happened again.

"You skidded around the corner like a psycho, hit me and proceeded to pulverise my poor, innocent car," I growled, indignation igniting in my stomach, masking a small portion of my terror but not dispelling it. What right did this bloody robot have to go hooning around, crashing into people and writing off their cars? And why me, of all people?

I grabbed the sides of the leather seat as the sleek little sports car I was in hooked it straight through a set of red lights and weaved through traffic like an absolute mental. He took a corner in much the same way he had taken the one where he cleaned me up, except a little less sideways and quite a bit faster. I pressed my head back into the seat and closed my eyes as I heard a few people yell from the sidewalks. Hopefully nobody picked up my face on a traffic camera.

"You know," I began, gritting my teeth as we slipped through a gap between a bus and a van with all the grace of a NASCAR driver. "for a car you're kind of a shitty driver."

I'm not really sure why I said that. Maybe because I was sick of being thrown around and because I didn't really appreciate being kidnapped by a talking car. I didn't appreciate being run over either, come to think of it. All I know is that I probably should have thought it through before I opened my mouth.

The brake screamed and the steering wheel spun sharply to the left. The car turned sharply in a full one hundred and eighty degree spin and the proceeded to speed away. Backwards. I'm not even joking; he was racing along the roads _backwards_ and weaving through the traffic almost as fast as he was going before. Then he wrenched the wheel again and all of a sudden we were facing straight once more. Somewhere in the mix the seat belt had come down by itself and fastened itself across my chest. It was kind of creepy, like an anaconda had suddenly gotten me in its grips. I wanted to squirm; I hated snakes and the mental imagery I had just given myself was _not_ making me feel any better about this whole event.

All was well for a moment there as we cruised off again, and I allowed myself a chance to relax, thinking that he had to be confident he had gotten his message across. Then the engine revved and I watched the gas pedal as it drifted all the way in until it was pressed to the floor. I grabbed the handle on the door with one hand and the side of the seat with the other. I looked up, terrified that some innocent civilian would be killed because I insulted a robot-car. But the road ahead was almost completely empty and it was long, straight and double lanes.

I think that was very nearly it for my bladder. The car turned on the radio and started blaring music, not familiar music by the kind of rock-pop that is designed to get your blood pounding. It worked. I think I had enough adrenalin pulsing through me at that moment that I could have peed out some kind of new drug. My heart galloped in my chest. I had seen on TV once that people can have fear induced heart attacks and die. Was that going to happen to me? It sure felt like my heart was going to give out at any moment. My hand was wrapped so tightly around the handle on the door that not only my knuckles but my whole hand was white. I think my fingernails dug in and scratched the dark leather seat but the car was enjoying its torment of me too much to make mention of it.

"Jackass," I managed to gasp out as he slowed down. I didn't mind going fast; it was more that I was going super fast in _this_ particular car. The robot made no response but to let out a brief chuckle through the pounding radio.

But even the radio quieted down as he steadied up and pulled in behind a yellow search and rescue vehicle. Something moved in the rear view mirror and I caught a glimpse of a large black truck with the 'GMC' badge on the grill. The three cars seemed to form a kind of convoy even though there was no communication that I could see or hear.

The radio flickered back to life as we pulled into an alleyway, playing the 'Jaws' theme song at a hauntingly low pitch.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I gasped, slamming the heel of my palm against the power button for the radio. There was blessed silence as we pulled in behind an obnoxiously yellow Camaro with two teenagers standing at its front bumper. I squinted at them but couldn't really make out their features, not that I really expected to know them or anything.

The door of the silver sports car-robot opened, the seatbelt retracted and I scrambled out into the cool night air, a ring of vehicles around me. There were five of them, I noted, as I backed towards the other human beings. There was the Camaro, the search and rescue, the black GMC truck and a red and blue semi. Oh, and lets not forget the smart-arsed silver Pontiac I had just climbed out of.

Please, please, please let them not all be giant robotic beings.


	3. Chapter 3

I staggered over to the teenagers, my heart in my throat and my eyes most likely the size of dinner plates. I just – how could this actually be happening? I must've been hallucinating or something. There was no way the Pontiac was a giant robot in disguise. These were just ordinary vehicles. It was all part of some elaborate joke. My brother was probably behind it. Yeah, he was always into cars and stuff. He was messing with me.

Then the semi with its killer red and blue flaming paintwork kind of … split. Then it split again and again until the parts were shifting and changing, forming something else. It quite literally _transformed._ As well as got bigger and bigger. I wasn't sure there was that much inside even a semi to give a being such a large form but by the time it was finished morphing or whatever it was doing, it probably would still have needed to bend over to look through my window on the third floor. The two teenagers stared up at the massive robot; I was more focused on its feet. If he stood on me there would quite possibly be nothing left. I'd be human purée smeared on the concrete.

I spun in place as whirs and clanks and metallic sounds that defied description echoed all around us. I didn't particularly want to turn my back on any of them, but there five of them and we were in the middle of the ring these gargantuan beings formed. I grabbed the sleeves of the boy and the girl, drawing them towards me in some sort of primal need for close physical proximity with another human being.

I stared, wide-eyed as the Pontiac performed some fancy rap-video moves on his way back to his feet. I had thought him so immense before but he was easily the smallest of the robots.

The ground shook beneath my feet and I jumped, turning about to face what had once been the semi. This one was by far the tallest of them, though the search and rescue Hummer came a decent second. The alien robot had knelt down and hunched over so that it-he- wasn't looming over us from like thirty feet above. His eyes, or whatever they were called on robots, were the same luminescent blue as my buddy the sports car. He stared at each of us in turn before fixing his gaze on the teenage boy. The girl drew closer to him, his sleeve caught in her fingers. Now that the robots had stopped moving around so much it wasn't quite so terrifying. Or at least that's what I thought. I at least no longer felt the need to invade the personal space of the two teens.

"Are you Samuel James Witwicky, descendant of Archibald Witwicky?" Oh shit, this kid was there for a reason? Please tell me there wasn't some nefarious plan for worldwide domination being enacted. I lived in this world; I didn't particularly want to see it overrun by giant robots. Mind you, I would most likely be one of the first to die given the current circumstances.

"They know your name," the girl this Sam kid was with whispered in shock and disbelief. I took a moment to look at her and then tried to understand exactly what she was doing hanging around with him. Two and two just wouldn't go together in my head. I mean, even from a female perspective that girl was good looking and he was… well, geeky looking.

"Yeah?" Sam replied, craning his neck back to look at the massive being. No! I screamed in my mind. Don't communicate with it! Haven't you seen the Terminator? Or any of those other countless robot-domination dystopia flicks?

"My name is Optimus Prime," Great, giant robots with names as well as personalities. Why the hell not? "We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron."

Planet. _Planet._ Okay. Fine. Massive robot _aliens._ Why the heck not? At least it was a little easier to bear than to think of them as some freak, human experiment in engineering. I'd always entertained the possibility that aliens might have existed. I just thought they would be… smaller. Quite a bit smaller. Possibly green, squishy too. Not being able to hide among humans so easily would also be a plus.

"But you can call us Autobots for short," the one that had taken the form of the search and rescue vehicle said, shrugging his arms in a sort of 'that's the way it is' gesture. It was such a human motion to make. I wanted to curl up in a corner somewhere and just cry while my brain vacationed after this mental and emotional overload. I had a funny feeling it was all a long way from over yet though.

Can you really blame me for being on the verge of a breakdown? Pretty much everything I thought I knew about the world just got ripped to shreds and thrown out the window to decay in metaphorical rain. 'They walk among us' quietly echoed through one of the back corridors of my mind. Yeah right; I'm sure if they 'walked' among us someone would have noticed by now. The transforming into earth vehicles trick was pretty neat though. Who would ever guess that their car was secretly a robot in disguise?

"Autobots," The kid, Sam, breathed. This was so freaking weird. Little did I know that things were only going to get more messed up from there on out.

"What's crackin' lil bitches?" The deep voice was agonisingly familiar and I almost didn't turn around to look at the transformed Pontiac. He did a crazy flip and crouched, posing like he was in an old rap video or something. Jack. Ass.

"My first lieutenant. Designation: Jazz," Optimus Prime informed us as we all watched 'Jazz' prance about. I had to admit that his name suited him. He seemed like poser. But there had to be more to him than that if he was Optimus' go to guy.

"This looks like cool place to kick it," Jazz announced, throwing himself on the hood of an old car that may have had some life left in it. After he jumped on it though it was, well, rather flattened. Maybe Jazz's problem was that he suffered from a 'Little Man' complex, if alien robots can even get such a thing. I mean, he was the shortest of them by a huge margin and the Pontiac itself was a pretty cute, but small car.

"What is that? How-How did he learn to talk like that?" Sam stammered, staring at Jazz in shock. Must be that the Camaro wasn't as chatty as the ride I got dragged there in.

"We've learned Earth's languages through the World Wide Web," Optimus informed us duly as he stood, rising back to that rather magnificent height of his. He seemed nice. Serious, but in a gentle sort of way. Wow, I just applied the adjective 'gentle' to a huge metallic being who could crush me with a finger.

"Just forewarning," I said, meaning to speak to Sam only but my indignation towards 'Jazz' shone through once again and I have no doubt that everyone heard it clearly. Who knows, maybe the aliens had advanced hearing too. I jabbed my thumb towards where the certain silver robot was still lounging. "He's kind of an arsehole."

Sam sent me a shocked look at the words that came out of my mouth, seemingly terrified that I had insulted the Autobots. Heck, maybe I had, but I had suffered through a long and mentally debilitating day and my attitude was making me suffer for it. Someone would probably find a me-sized smear in the alleyway in the morning.

"Hey, come on now," Jazz jumped up from where he was 'kicking it.' I took an involuntary step backwards, fear suddenly rising in my chest. But he didn't seem mad, just … yeah I can't describe it. He seemed to be kind of amused and irritated at the same time. "I said I was sorry."

"What?" I snorted. "Uh, no, you really didn't."

I heard a loud hiss of air being depressed and what sounded like a frustrated groan. I glanced back to see their leader pinching the plates that formed his 'nose.' It was another of those totally human gestures that made me want to smile. And cry. At the same time.

"What did you do?" Optimus Prime asked and Jazz launched into a long and remarkably convoluted description of how he hadn't expected the road to be so slippery and had yet to become adjusted to his vehicle form and so on so forth.

"He ran me over," I interjected, getting tired of the way the silver bot was beating around the bush like a child trying to stay out of trouble. Jazz barked a solitary laugh.

"Well, I didn' run her _over,_ 'else she would be flat, you hear what I'm sayin'?"

"And then he crashed into my car," I supplied as well, being on the receiving end of what may well have been a thoroughly unimpressed look from Jazz. It was hard to tell exactly what emotion his face plates were conveying though; the glowing blue eyes kept throwing me off. They were _freaky._

"Jazz…" Optimus began and I felt a smile tug at my lips. Jazz being First Lieutenant or not, Optimus Prime looked and sounded like a tired parent fostering rambunctious younglings. I almost felt bad for the big guy.

"I know, I know," Jazz waved his hands about in a 'yeah, yeah I got it' kind of way. "We don't harm the humans, keep a low profile, limit direct contact. I got it, orright? That's why I brought her. She knows now. Figured you'd know what to do with her."

There was a beat in which there was silence and then Jazz took two steps forward and languidly crouched in front of me. I squinted at the silver bot through my smudged glasses.

"I screwed up. I coulda killed you lil lady. I'm sorry," he looked and sounded sincere and I guessed that it must have been a big thing for him to apologise like that. I know I likely wouldn't have had the stones to do the same.

"I'm just glad I didn't flattened, so…" I said with a shrug and he looked… relieved? I'm going to say relieved. _I_ felt _relieved_ that he wasn't pissed at me.

"She's seen us now," the black one said. There was a whirring sound and suddenly I had a huge weapon of _some_ description pointed at me face, the barrel heating and growing orange. I gulped, feeling all the blood rush out of my face and pool somewhere near my feet. "We should just take her out; save ourselves the trouble later."

This was so not my night…


	4. Chapter 4

"Whoa! What!? No!" I cried, throwing up my hands and taking a few very fast paces backwards, stumbling over my feet as I did so. "For the love of _God,_ please don't shoot me! C'mon man, I like living!"

The other two humans, Sam and the girl were crying out in protest too, waving their arms like crazy. Oh good, they didn't want me to be blasted to smithereens either. What had I ever done to deserve this? I was good person, wasn't I? I paid my bills and my taxes, albeit a little reluctantly but still. I hadn't broken any laws of late, I hadn't killed anyone or assaulted them or whatever. I was twenty six, unmarried with an apartment, a car – well, I _had_ a car – and I was about to start taking some courses so I could finally get a decent job. It was a few huge steps up from the lifestyle I had been raised in. What had I seriously done to deserve this? I had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and now I was going to _die_ for it? It wasn't my fault the Pontiac-bot was a lunatic driver.

"Stop," The barked command from Optimus Prime was enough to get even me to stop moving. I froze to the spot like a deer in the headlights. I inched my head around so I could fleeting glance at the Autobot leader, all the while keeping the bulky black bot with the big arsed cannons in my sight. Please tell me he wasn't about to let this trigger-happy robot _nutcase_ blow me up. "You know we don't kill innocents."

"I'm innocent," I announced, shaking my head frantically. "Very innocent. Innocent like a baby."

What? I'm not allowed to babble when I have an alien cannon staring me in the face?

"I was just having some fun," the black painted alien shrugged his shoulders before glancing at that Sam kid. "Your friend doesn't feel so lucky, punk. How 'bout you?"

My breathing relaxed and the absolute terror in my chest was gradually replaced with flaming indignation as Sam Witwicky swallowed thickly. This robot thought that was funny? It was a joke to him? Are these alien guys all pricks or have I just been remarkably lucky to have been unanimously picked as their source of entertainment for the evening?

"My weapons specialist, Ironhide," Prime introduced the coal coloured bot, exasperation clear in his metallic voice. Ironhide seemed the perfect name for the dark robot with the big guns. It seemed like grenades would bounce off him just as readily as criticism. Ironhide stowed his myriad of massive weapons away and gave a small, self-satisfied smirk as we feeble humans cowered in fear. I had a moment to wonder how funny it would be if I applied some magnetised learner drive 'L' plates onto his forehead, or his back. Somewhere he couldn't see it.

"Our medical officer, Ratchet," Optimus continued, gesturing to the bot who had taken the form of the search and rescue Hummer. He made a motion akin to sniffing and I wondered if they had olfactory senses like humans. A mere moment later my curiosity dissolved as I struggled to mask my laughter. I wasn't sure if doc-bot had a sense of humour or if he was just plain oblivious to the way humans address the topic of sex. That is to say, not at all in polite company.

"The boy's pheromone levels suggest he wants _mate_ with the female," he said as though this had some kind of relevance to everything that was going on. I was suddenly extremely comfortable standing about two metres away from the 'happy' couple who scratched their heads and looked around awkwardly. I mean, _I_ was blushing for crying out loud, and this had absolutely _nothing_ to do with _me._

"And you already know your guardian, Bumblebee," Optimus Prime continued as though absolutely nothing had happened. They were probably just confused about our reactions. They were _robots_ after all. Anyway, the Camaro-bot, Bumblebee, was shadow-boxing like crazy and cranking some mean tunes.

 _"Check on the rep, yep second to none,"_ were the lines that blared out of his stereo and I got the vague feeling that he was grinning like a schoolboy. It was hard to tell though, since he was the only one without a distinctive mouth.

"Bumblebee, right?" Sam repeated as though he may have misheard the huge metallic being. Suddenly the garish yellow and black paint job made so much more sense. It would have been weird if he was called Bumblebee and then he was blue and white or something. "So you're my guardian, huh?"

Great, the kid gets a guardian alien and I've had two try and kill me in the last hour. That's just, just not fair.

"His vocal processors were damaged in battle," Ratchet, the doc-bot said pointing a little red laser light at the other yellow bot. It must have tickled or hurt or something 'cause Bumblebee made a strangled coughing sound. "I'm still working on them."

One of these alien fellas that can't talk. He's automatically my favourite. Er, right after Optimus, who stopped his pal Ironhide from shooting me. Yeah, Optimus was top-bot. Sorry Bumblebee.

Sam nudged the girl next to him and she looked frustrated at him for a second but he was clearly insisting something. She gave him a blue-eyed glare and swallowed nervously, looking around at all of the Autobots, each of them towering over her.

"I'm – I'm Mikaela," she said, her eyes darting around. She seemed charged with anxiety. I could sympathise. She turned around to face me, almost looking at me pleadingly. "Who are you?"

Dammit, why'd I have to be last? How was _I_ supposed to divert attention?

"Er, Bonnie. Bonnie Jones," I said, all eyes turning to me. I have a horrible nervous tick where I have to scratch my eyebrow and man, I was scratching it so crazily at that point someone probably thought I had fleas. Or a skin disorder or… yeah, never mind. Let's not go there.

"Bonnie, Mikaela, your presence is unfortunate," Way to make a girl feel wanted Optimus. Cheers. "We had hoped to retrieve the glasses with minimal human involvement in our affairs."

"I can un-involve myself," I gave a wavering smile and spun about, intending to march off and head straight to the nearest psychiatric ward. Only Ironhide stomped his stocky metallic leg down right in front of me and jostled me back towards the centre of the circle. I threw my hands up in a submissive gesture, putting myself right back where I came from next to the two teenagers. "Okay, apparently I'm involved. So, uh, what are these affairs of yours?"

I think it was safe to say that I was losing that sense of absolute terror I had possessed around that massive metal beings but a few moments previously. I mean, yeah sure, they were still scary as all hell, but Boss Bot didn't seem to want me dead and the others all looked like they were pretty loyal and all that, following his lead. Maybe they seriously just enjoyed messing with me, getting off on my evident waves of terror, and really it was only two of the five so far that had been horrid. Look at the bright side; I was still alive despite my fat mouth deciding that being rude to Jazz was a good idea.

"We are on Earth looking for the All Spark," Optimus Prime began, looking at us three itty-bitty little humans in a away that made me extremely self-conscious. Not of my appearance you see, but of my moral short comings. Yep, I could see why his soldiers were so loyal despite, you know, being soldiers. "And we must find it before Megatron."

Yeah, that doesn't sound good. If the Autobots are the good guys and I find them so downright terrifying, I could only imagine what an alien 'bad guy' looked like.

"Mega-wha?" Sam looked confused and a damn sight less scared than Mikaela or myself. Not cool man, showing us girls up like that.

Optimus seemed patient and understanding of our lack of knowledge as to whatever was going on, and for that I was eternally grateful. He turned towards an empty space of wall beside and I stared at it, trying to work out what was so special about this completely random section of bricks. Then light and images danced across the surface, near on scaring the panties off of me. I glanced back and saw that Optimus Prime was projecting it from his eyes.

Attract alien robot as a pet. Get free in-home theatre. Oh Lordy.

The projection showed a world of metal, stone and fire, a dark world filled with chaos that could be barely distinguished. The film was taking from a rise, above and behind whatever was happening. I had a brief though that Optimus had likely stood there and witnessed it himself.

"Our planet was once a powerful empire," He began, his voice taking on a timbre I had heard only once before. When my grandfather lay upon his deathbed and reminisced on the things he regretted, but had no power to change. "Peaceful and just. Until we were betrayed. By Megatron, leader of the Decepticons."

This guy sounds like a dick already. A truly peaceful and just world? It sounds like a paradise humans could only imagine. Our race just didn't understand the concepts. Why would anyone want to destroy that?

"All who defied them were destroyed. Our war finally consumed the planet, and the All Spark was lost to the stars,"

I cringed as a figure rose up amongst the images, hurling a weapon that laid low another bot which was trying to stealthily escape. The brief glimpse I had of Megatron did nothing to dissuade my growing fear of this creature, this monster, that I had never seen, and hopefully never would. He looked nothing like the Autobots around me. They had colour, emotion and seemed vaguely… human, for want of a better word. This Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, was completely alien and the very sight of him chilled me to the bones, though it was only a projection. His armour was dark, his eyes glowing red and feral, nothing like the cerulean ones the Autobots boasted.

"Megatron followed it to Earth," Huh, all the planets in the galaxy and it had to end up on the one with billions of oblivious, squishy humans. "Where Captain Witwicky found him."

Sam made a sound that was somewhere between disbelieving and enthralled. "My grandfather..?"

"It was an accident that intertwined our fates," Optimus said with a slight smile, shutting off the projection. He did not do so before I could see dozens of robot … corpses, lifeless and hanging, behind Megatron's daunting silhouette. Revulsion rose in my gut. If Megatron did that to his own people… what would he do to ours?

"Who was your grandfather? This Archibald Witwicky?" I asked, curiosity plaguing me like a contagious disease. I was becoming captivated by Optimus' story and the simple existence of these interstellar beings. It was gradually burning away the lingering terror and suspicion I held towards the bots.

"He was an arctic explorer," Sam said, turning to me. "One of the first men to explore the Arctic Circle. He ended up going mad, drawing crazy symbols no one had ever seen before."

I nodded in understanding, this portion of the tale suddenly making a whole lot more sense to me.

"Megatron crash landed before he could retrieve the Cube," Optimus said. By Cube, was he referring to the All Spark by an alternative name? I figured he was. Optimus didn't seem to notice the slip and carried on regardless. "He accidentally activated his navigation system. The coordinates to the Cube's location on Earth were imprinted on his glasses."

"How'd you know about his glasses?" Sam questioned, squinting up at the massive alien leader. There was a pause before Optimus said:

"EBay."

I very nearly died of laughter but managed to smother it at the last moment. It was such a mundane, everyday thing and yet hearing it in Optimus Prime's regal voice, heck, hearing it from a space alien, was just downright hilarious.

"EBay," Sam repeated almost disbelievingly. I was trying to work out why the glasses were on the auction site. Was he trying to peddle his ancestor's things? I almost squealed when I suddenly heard the bot called Ratchet speak up. His voice was a whole other tenor to Optimus' and, in truth, I had almost forgotten about the other Autobots entirely.

"If the Decepticons find the All Spark they will use its power to transform Earth's machines and build a new army," Remind me to find whoever sent that thing to our planet and kick his arse. I mean, out of all the uninhabited, lifeless planets out there, they had to pick this one? The one the midst of a technological boom?

"And the human race will be extinguished," Optimus finished. Well, no one can say he doesn't tell it like it is. It still wasn't a cheerful thought, but it was the unavoidable truth. After all the times the human race had attempted to destroy itself, that feat would be achieved by hostile members of a colossal, mechanical race.

A fire lit in the pit of my belly. The same fire that told everyone who ever said I couldn't do something to get stuffed. The same fire that had made me so resistant to conformity as a youth. The fire that had gone cold a while back. There was no way I was going to take the extinction of _my_ race lying down, especially if no one else could do anything about since they simply _didn't know_ what was coming for them. Once more I found that long dormant urge to fight and protect stirring, wrestling with the new side of me that pleaded with me to forgo everyone else and just save my own hide. It was a strange feeling, as though I was torn between two personalities, two sets of virtues; those that had served my family, and those that had served my own self when I was forced to walk into the world alone. It was a decision between what was right and what was easy, and I had no idea which way I was supposed to go.

"Sam Witwicky," Optimus said, standing tall and magnificent, the lights of the other Autobots shining off his paint and chrome. "You hold the key to Earth's survival.

Well hot damn, we were all screwed.

 **0o0o0o0o0**

 **Author's Note**

 **Apologies for the delay. This chapter has been sitting on 'very nearly finished' for the last few days. It's much longer in comparison to make up for it though. I have no excuses except that I am lazy and have been reading some awesome stories, and once I start reading I kinda become obsessed till I finish.**

 **I'm going to keep you guys only a moment longer as I want to say a most sincere thanks to everyone was has favourited, followed and reviewed this story so far. As of the moment the stats are all sitting at 13 which I find hilarious and I apologise to anyone with triskaidekaphobia (fear of the number thirteen.)**

 **I would like to thank the following for their reviews and general awesomeness: CarsCars2Fanatic, TatteredAngel42, HeartsGuardianSol, Reader103, Guest - Random Person, Guest- Wandering Yoda, ReiNyx, RoboDork97, Guest- The Random Guest, emzydatffan and crimsoneyedangel18. You guys are so awesome and so many of you responded to my replies, happy to chat away. Thanks guys, you make my day! There have been so many reviews on all three of the chapters that I haven't had a chance to commend any of you until now. So thank you, fanfic writing would not be enjoyable without you.**

 **Author's note is long, so I will leave you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did ( or didn't) please review? Remember, if you giggle, you owe one.**

 **Aether**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Author's Note: Randomly discovered that 'The Plagues' by Hans Zimmerman and featuring Ralph Fiennes and Amick Byram is oddly appropriate for the relationship between Megatron and Optimus. It has no relevance to this story, but it's pretty cool. The song is from the movie "The Prince of Egypt."**

 **Also, let me sincerely apologise for the lateness of this chapter. I currently have like** ** _no_** **internet and lost my muse for a little while there. I've also got a bunch of horses to work and I've been working with my dad when I can so busy, busy, busy. This chapter is longer to make up for it though :D**

 **A sincere thanks to my reviewers Reader103, Guest- ashryn, Dreaming Star Traveler, emzydatffan, HeartsGuardianSol, Guest- Emily Thacker, CarsCars2Fanatic.**

 **Ashryn- I never thought of it like that XD Rewatched Thor and realised you're exactly right.**

 **Emily Thacker – Writers mind spawning ideas for story with awesome kickass soldier… How cool would a Transformers, Halo X-over be?**

 **0o0o0o0o0**

There was a long, intense and ridiculous drawn out silence with all of the Autobots looking at Sam expectantly, almost as though they expected him to just whip out the glasses and save our planet in an instant. Seriously guys, the kid would already have thrown the glasses at your feet if he had them on him.

"Please tell me that you have those glasses," Mikaela turned to Sam, almost begging. The poor girl was just about terrified out of her wits. I couldn't help but conceal a small, smug smile though; when I was her age there wouldn't have been an ounce of fear in me. I would have been hankering to learn more, to see it all and experience everything the newcomers had to offer. Then my private little conceited smile turned into a frown. Had I really changed that much? Had I become… domestic? Oh God, it was like I was already well into my middle-age.

I was tame, boring. What the actual _hell?_ I don't remember allowing myself to becoming the very incarnate of the lifestyle I went through all kinds of trials to avoid. It must've been a slow change, creeping up gradually, year after year until I was exactly the kind of woman I had always swore black and blue that I would never be. Jackie would be wetting himself if he could have seen me. _No!_ Goddammit, no thinking about that! Sorry, Jacks, but get outta my head before I lose it completely!

I ground a palm in my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut doing an extremely rapid and therefore rather pointless count backwards from ten. I opened my eyes and refocused my attention on my surroundings.

"Well I _obviously_ don't have them with me," Sam was saying. Huh, my mental breakdown must've only taken a few seconds. Maybe that's telling me something about my mind. "They're back at my house. I had them for the project."

What project? I wasn't about to ask and frankly I didn't really care. I did, however, have a magnificent headache coming on. It was a slight pressure up behind my eyes, a stabbing pain blooming on the inside of my left eye like I was having a railroad nail hammered in there. I went to pat my pockets, wondering if I had a stray painkiller somewhere, before remembering that I was wearing nothing but a thin white blouse, short black skirt and black stockings. I hoped it wouldn't rain; the wet, see-through top would be the least of my worries.

Somewhere in the midst of my mental whine-fest it had been decided that we were leaving. Camaro-bot, er, Bumblebee, had already transformed back into his vehicle form with Sam and Mikaela climbing into the front seats. The doors shut and I made an intuitive leap that I apparently wasn't going with them.

"Come on, lil femme!" Jazz said, giving me a broad grin. He bounced up cheerfully. I felt terrible as I saw what was evidently the automatic reaction of my face in his ultra-shiny visor. Yeah, I looked shit-scared but then my scared face and my angry face were apparently pretty similar so I'm not sure what he saw. He kind of… wilted regardless. How can a massive, punk-ass robot pull of the kicked puppy guilt trip so well? It didn't matter; there was no way I was going with him.

"Er, I'm sorry, I just… you already nearly killed me once. And I've seen how you drive," I cringed, actually physically _cringed_ as I spoke. I felt bad, but I just couldn't take another trip with that maniac.

I give him credit, Jazz bounced back like a crazy silver rubber ball. He shrugged his metallic shoulders before turning and pretty much _diving_ into his vehicle form. I couldn't help but stare as the parts all shifted, splitting and remoulding into the snazzy little Pontiac Solstice. Then I stifled a laugh, because he stopped right next Ironhide whose truck form dwarfed the teeny-tiny car.

I glanced back at Prime, wondering who the hell was going to give me lift after that. He gave me an inquisitive look, seeming to wonder just _why_ I was so freaked out by Jazz. I think he came to the resolution that he didn't actually want to know what his First Lieutenant had done in the interim between running me over and dropping me off with the rest of the Autobots.

There were only three choices left with whom I could go and Ironhide clearly was no longer included either. He just kind of ignored the situation, idling in his truck form. Optimus sighed at the attitude of his subordinates. I noticed he did that a lot. Optimus glanced at Ratchet.

"Ratc-"

"No,"

Wow, thanks Ratchet. I was gonna remember that one. That's an excellent disposition for a medic, by the way. Someone remind me why I turned down the only bot who _wanted_ to give me a lift? Oh right, because he was a lunatic.

Ratchet took two steps before folding himself into his vehicle form, the vomit-worthy yellow search and rescue vehicle. Just looking at him gave me a whole new appreciation for Bumblebee's more 'ochre' yellow scheme. I resisted the urge to flip that bird at the medical officer, not knowing what kind of visuals the Autobots got while in car form. Better safe than sorry. Argh, there I go again! Not so long ago I wouldn't have hesitated, regardless of whether he was a sentient robot or not.

The sound of hissing and metal smoothly sliding over metal, pieces clunking into places and sorting themselves out had me leaping away before I had even glanced back to check whether or not Optimus was _actually_ transforming. I think the tell-tale signs of it were burned into my mind forevermore. He had transformed, and I was grateful that I hadn't resembled a jumpy rabbit for no reason. The grill of the Peterbilt stood higher than me, the hood well above my head. In fact my eyes were about level with what must have been the Autobot insignia. I craned my head back to look at the Peterbilt. I could have stood on my own head twice and not been able to touch the top of the smokestacks. It was form wholly befitting of the massive alien leader. If I wracked my brain hard enough I thought that perhaps my father had driven a Peterbilt when I was a child, but I couldn't be certain. It could easily have been any other type.

The door to the cab popped open and I hesitantly walked around to the passenger's side.

"Are you …sure?" I asked, my throat suddenly scratchy. I deliberated with myself whether I was actually okay with getting _inside_ one of them. I didn't know if my heart was okay with it. I mean, seriously, it might just randomly give out without a moments notice. On the other hand, it was Optimus, their apparently kind leader, and I was also getting tired of being afraid. I hope he couldn't smell as well as Ratchet because I was sweaty from fear and pretty sure I didn't smell too crash-hot. "I could catch a cab… or something."

Er, no I couldn't seeing as though I had no idea where I was supposed to go. Maybe I would just take off home, get piss-assed drunk and forget all about this night. Pass it off as a bad, alcohol and flu medicine dream. Not that I had the flu.

"It is no trouble Bonnie," Optimus said, his voice emanating from somewhere in the cab. I assumed it was the stereo like Jazz had done. I did feel rather gratified that he had evidently taken note of my name. "The others were just being inconceivably rude."

"Well, I wouldn't say _inconceivably,"_ I replied, chewing my lip as I climbed up the steps into the cab. I settled into the leather seat, numbly surprised by its gentle warmth. "I feel bad. About Jazz, I mean."

Let me just say, right here and now, that it is one weird experience trying to speak conversationally whilst there's no one around. Logically you are speaking to the robot who has taken form of the truck you're sitting _inside,_ but you're brain tells you that you're being daft since there's no kind of feedback. You can't see any emotions or feel any air of what they might be thinking or feeling. It's like talking to a concrete wall and expecting it to reply. Only you know the wall _can_ reply but you don't know if it's going to tell you to go fuck yourself or it's going to be really nice and understanding. So yeah, it was weird and uncomfortable. The only sound was the rumble of the engine as Optimus lead the way out of the alleyway. Then the radio buzzed back to life.

"Jazz frightened you. Fear makes us hesitant and resistant. Your reaction is understandable. Jazz should not be offended," Us. Optimus said 'us' when referring to experiencing fear. They could feel fear. Just like humans. And if they could feel fear they could undoubtedly feel other things like anger and offence, amusement and camaraderie. Why was such a revelation only hitting me at that point?

There was silence between us as I mulled over my thoughts. I was only mildly disturbed by the truck driving itself. I had already seen that with Jazz, though I had been on the driver's side that time around. The brakes hissed and the gearstick shifted down as we rolled up to an intersection. Optimus even flicked on the indicator though there was no one behind him but the other Autobots. The dull, rhythmic 'clunk, clunk, clunk' of the indicator was audible even over the rumble of the engine.

We rolled down a motorway and I was blessed with an opportunity to smile at the dumbstruck faces of people as they were overtaken by a semi truck doing seriously illegal speeds. I could only imagine their expressions as the rest of the amazing line up of vehicles raced past. Er, and then Ratchet somewhere in the middle. I thought, just maybe, that there was a sense of amusement exuding from Prime as some of the late-night pedestrians actually stopped and stared as we passed. But I was probably wrong. Probably sleep deprived too.

Optimus quieted the engine as we travelled through a well-to-do neighbourhood, many of the houses sleepy and dark at that time of night. I felt like we were getting close. I decided to just out and say what I had been mulling over the entire trip. A revelation that I was reluctant to acknowledge.

"You guys are like us, aren't you?" I said. Optimus had rolled the windows down for me and I had crossed my arms and leant them on the sill, supporting my chin on them and letting the wind blast my face and chill me to the bones. It was the first time in a long time that I hadn't felt cold. Probably since the interior of the cab was strangely warm, just like it had been with Jazz. The frisky breeze was actually welcomed since I didn't want to ask for the air-con.

"I- am unsure," Optimus ended up replying, before the radio snapped off once again as it seemed to do when he was finished speaking. There was a moment before it came to life again. "Is that your belief?"

"No," I replied simply, before fully laying my head down in my arms and closing my eyes. "I know it's true."

They were travellers from across the universe, foreigners from the stars and yet… they had what we called 'humanity' by bucketful. It practically oozed out of them. You couldn't look at any one of the Autobots and possibly conceive that they might have been mindless _drones._ They had personalities, attitudes, _accents._

Maybe this whole thing wasn't just about the survival of my own race.

 **0o0o0o0o0**

 **Author's Note: Er, yeah this chapter I seriously have my doubts about. Feedback please?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Author's Note: With this chapter I really wanted to give a better look at the fact that Bonnie** ** _is_** **an adult, she has like a whole decade on Sam and Mikaela and she's been making her way on her own for a while so she's not one of those naïve, childish adults. She actually knows shit, she knows the value of cautiousness and while she may not be able to acknowledge it herself, she notices things that other people are generally too arrogant to acknowledge. So yeah, just keep in mind she's not a child, she's actually been around. Ah, I don't know, just enjoy!**

 **Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter. emzydatffan, HeartsGuardianSol, CarsCars2Fanatic, basecannon, Emily Thacker, Blissangel1494 and 99luftballoonsxox. I want to say a big heartfelt thanks because my internet is not letting me reply to each of you personally and I'd like to get the chapter up instead. Rest assured that I have read and adored each and every one of them.**

 **Emily Thacker: Great, now all I can see is Ironhide running around shooting Covenant XD**

 **0o0o0o0o0**

I hadn't fully realised exactly how tired I was until I gave myself permission to close my eyes for a few moments. My exhaustion came crashing down like a tonne of bricks, knocking me out cold. I wasn't ashamed; I had been awake for about eighteen hours already, and had gone through significant emotional trauma during that time. I couldn't be blamed for being tired as fuck.

It sucked though, since apparently we were only two or three corners from where Sam lived. Seriously, that scrawny kid lived in one of those huge houses? I bet he was an only child too. Damn, I could have had the entirety of my family living in one of those places, extended kin included. Made the house I grew up in look like a ramshackle _hovel_ for crying out loud. Ah, the injustices of modern society.

I jolted awake at the sound of the semi's brakes hissing and the engine rumbling – no _growling –_ as it shifted into first gear and crept into the laneway that the properties backed onto. I felt cheated out of a nice nap, but secretly I was just glad I hadn't drooled on the nice alien robot.

"We've arrived," Optimus Prime said and I resisted the reflexive urge to roll my eyes and say 'no shit, Sherlock.' Instead I just shuffled to the edge of the seat as the door opened itself. I took a fleeting moment to blink in vain attempt to wake myself fully before swinging out the door and climbing down, just about stacking it in the end. That would have been the perfect addition to my day, sprawling on the damp, cold pavement in a skirt and thin shirt.

I drew myself up and walked towards the two teenagers who had just stepped out of the Camaro ahead of us, the rest of the 'bots pulling in and idling behind the red and blue semi. I took a moment to really look at the two teenagers who I had been forced into this debacle with.

They could not have been more different. Sam was jittery, uncertain, everything you would expect in a kid who'd been bullied their whole lives. You could see the way his eyes shone at the idea that he knew something, that he held something over the rest of the world, something that did not and perhaps would never know. It was a feeling of power, and you could just see that he'd never had something in his grasp like that. He could choose to help the aliens, who supposedly wanted to save our world, or he could hand them over to the government, sell out their kind to his own. In that moment he possessed more power than anyone else in the world and in truth, it frightened me. I couldn't presume to know what he would choose. Would he sell the Autobots out, expose them, thereby changing the world forever, for better or worse, and doing what some may suggest was his duty to his country, to his _planet._

Or would he help the 'bots? They said they were working to save our world, but no doubt they were trying to save their own as well. The boy held the fate of two people in the palm of his hand. He held all the cards, all the power. He just didn't know it yet. His naivety could be the downfall or saving grace of two species. I prayed to a God I didn't really believe in that he would make the right decision, but then, what _was_ the right decision? I had no idea, and I wasn't sure that he had actually _made_ any kind of conscious decision. How was he supposed to choose? He didn't know what was right and what was wrong, what was truth and what was fiction. Not one of us humans knew. Were we supposed to be choosing between what we knew, what was familiar, or taking a leap of faith based on the words of an apparently gentle alien robot? It was enough to make ones brain collapse into a squirming pile of mush.

Mikaela. Now that I was looking at her again I was able to see past the fear of being squished, the fear of the unknown that was in her every glance and gesture. She played her game well that girl, but I wasn't ever going to believe that she was as dependent on a male presence as she seemed fond of pretending to be. The way she clung to Sam's arm, looked to him for guidance, it was simply what was expected of her, a farce that she played. I could see the falsity of it as soon as Sam dashed away to his house, leaving her and me to 'watch them.' She played the part of a dependent, foolish girl well enough, but I had seen others play the role, had done it myself for a while there. There was sharpness in her gaze, a gaze that looked, speculated and _analysed._ The grease around her fingernails was a dead giveaway that she wasn't the air-headed princess she seemed to portray.

They were just teenagers, just kids, but there was so much _more,_ just as there is with everyone. Hopefully whatever else was in them was enough to save our world rather than condemn it. Hell, I was realistic; I wasn't going to be of any great help. I couldn't even pinpoint a single one of my skills or characteristics that were at all beneficial in the current scenario.

I spun around and watched with wide eyes as Prime unfolded himself from his vehicular form, standing in full view of anyone in the nearby vicinity. And by vicinity, I mean anyone in the _freaking neighbourhood!_ I hadn't got a proper appreciation for exactly how tall the alien leader was before but man, he was massive!

Mikaela was squeaking out something that sounded like 'stop, stop! Fucking crouch down or something!' whilst running around flapping her hands and trying not to get flattened as he quite literally stepped over the tall, privacy fence of the Witwicky's backyard. I just stared. What else was I suppose to do? The guy was 30-odd feet of metal and badass-ness.

I didn't really start to have too much of a panic attack until I heard the hauntingly familiar hissing, whirring and clunking of more Autobot's transforming. Four of them to be exact. That is to say, _all of them!_

"No, no!" I twisted my hands into my hair hoping to relieve to some of the mounting pressure on my poor brain. "This can't be happening. Someone is totally going to notice five massive robots walking around…"

"Hey! Bonnie!" I heard Mikaela whisper shout and glanced at her, realising she was several metres away and leaning through the gate that lead into Sam's backyard. I jogged down after her, grimacing as my horrid black shoes rubbed on the back of my feet again, the thin black stockings doing nothing in the way of cushioning. 'Don't worry,' my boss had said, 'we provide the whole uniform so that everyone looks impeccable.' If I ever saw him again I was gonna ram my foot and its cheap fucking shoe up his ass.

I followed Mikaela through the gate, pretending not to notice the now-unlocked padlock hanging loose from the chain. What the girl did in her spare time was none of my business.

We rounded the edge of a tall hedge, frantic knowing that the 'bots were on the move and Sam's whispered shouts weren't making us feel anymore comfortable about what they were up to. I mean, really, what harm could a bunch of giant, metal robots do?

I just hoped nobody was going to ask me to pay for that fountain.

 **0o0o0o0o0**

 **Author's note: Short chapter. Please offer feedback? Much appreciation! The next part is probably my favourite in the whole movie, aside from the brief moment where all the 'bots are running around in their Protoforms. What's your favourite part of the movie?**

 **Oh, and a reviewer raised a point in mentioning they would like to see Bonnie end up with Jazz. So, if you had to pick a partner for Bonnie based on what you know thus far, who would it be? Man or Machine XD Don't just limit it to the five 'bots we've already got running around either.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **My muse and I had a major break-up and wasn't being an uncooperative little sh!t so yeah, I kind of lost a bit of inspiration for** ** _everything._** **Also I've been super busy. I'm hoping to qualify my horse for our first 80km ride on Saturday so that's a bit stressful. Also, my 18th is on Friday so that's been hell too considering my family are kinda struggling at the moment, my dad not having been paid in forever and all anyone is doing is griping about that. Ya know, I think I can see why my muse needed a break...**

 **Also, I maybe, perhaps, kinda lost this chapter in all of its completed glory... oops, my bad.**

 **Thank you to heavenslilagl420, Jazzilynn Hall, Skydreamer1990, Emily Thacker, basecannon, CarsCars2Fanatic and icanhascamaro for reviewing. I'd love to reply to y'all but it's just not gonna happen. Everyone seem to root for team Jazz at any rate. But I seriously like the idea of Jazz and Prowl. Things could get very** ** _interesting._** **We shall see.**

 **0o0o0o0o0**

"Oh- Oops, my bad," Optimus Prime said, lifting his foot off of the flattened fountain. I couldn't help but wonder what that would have been like as a person, now all flat and mushed with pieces everywhere. And blood, lots of blood. My stomach roiled. Mikaela, standing beside me and looking flustered and on the verge of a small panic attack, stared at the massive Cybertronian footprints that were mulching up the rest of the lawn as Ratchet, Ironhide and Jazz joined Prime and had a bit of a casual stroll around. Bumblebee popped out from somewhere else and then there were five.

"No!" Sam cried, freaking out over the utterly wrecked fountain in the middle of the lawn. How the heck was he supposed to explain that and the wrecked lawn to his parents? Now, if Mikaela was on the brink of a small panic attack, then Sam about to tip over the edge into a crazy, psychological breakdown. The guy looked _stressed._ "Oh, I- I don't – you couldn't- you couldn't wait for five minutes? You couldn't wait for _five minutes_!? I told you to jus-just _stay! Just stay! God!"_

Yeah, he was totally stressed.

"I told you to watch them," Sam whisper-shouted at Mikaela and I as he frantically ran up to us. "I told you!"

"Uh, okay, you know what they seem to be in a _little_ bit of a rush," Mikaela bit back, torn between freaking out about us all getting caught and being pissed that Sam was being pushy and dominant.

"We're so screwed," I commented abstractly, watching a little lap dog run across the lawn. Was that a … bootie or a splint on its leg?

"Oh this is bad," Sam clenched his hands on his head, fisting his short hair. He spun around at the shrill yapping that the dog emitted, the mere sound of it making me want to boot the little thing across the lawn like a little orange football. What is the point of having a little, yappy dog anyway?

"No!" Sam cried, the teenage boy spotting what the rest of us had been oblivious too. The dog was stood right next to Ironhide's immense foot, looking utterly puny in comparison. But then, everything probably looked puny compared to that guy. For a moment I thought that Sam was freaking out that the giant robot was going to stand on the little rat, but then said rat lifted its leg and… _tinkled._ All over the weapon's specialist's foot.

"Mojo! Mojo! Off the robot! _God!"_ Sam exclaimed before running off after the little beast. I stifled a smile; big bad Ironhide got his foot pissed on. He totally just got dominated by a rat-dog. I may have let out an undignified squeak when Ironhide flicked 'Mojo' with one of his … toes? Just because I griped about little rodent-like dogs didn't mean I actually wanted one to come to harm. But seeing that the small fry was actually alright I let loose a quiet chuckle.

"Eww!" Ironhide grumbled, sounding like a petulant teenager. "Wet."

Sam ran up, grabbed the dog and shoved it under his arm, backing up several paces _very_ quickly. I would be too with a grumpy robot giving me _that_ particular look. The boy was crying out and pleading with Ironhide to stop.

"Hold on, this is Mojo, this is Mojo," he said in the most confident voice he could manage. Considering that his voice had steadily been rising through the octaves all night I think I could safely say that it didn't sound at all confident. "He's a pet of mine, he's a pet! Okay? That's all."

Cue the massive cannons shoved in Sam's face. I was starting to sense a routine here with Ironhide.

"Could you just- just put the g-guns away! P-p-put 'em away. _Please,"_ he squeaked out frantically, the 'bot's guns whirring away right in his face, the huge black Autobot bearing down from his massive height like a terrifying, technologically advanced Titan.

You know, the kind, friendly thing to do would have been to run in and stop Ironhide from blasting either Sam or the mutt away. As it was Mikaela and I just stood on the sidelines with wide eyes. Actually, we were about as far away across the garden as we could get. Yeah, I was so brave.

"You have a rodent infestation; shall I terminate?" At that point I just about busted my ribs trying to laugh silently. Ironhide, buddy, you just went up a rung on my metaphorical ladder of awesomeness. We were evidently of the same mind about Chihuahuas. Huh, who would have thought? Finding common ground with a massive mechanical alien. Especially one that apparently had some kind of weapons fetish. It takes all kinds I suppose.

Oh look, Mikaela finally decided to be a good friend and stop Sam and his dog from getting blasted into a thousand pieces. Yeah, I wasn't going anywhere near that nutter and his guns.

I heard the soft 'whump' of a massive foot colliding with the ground and the hissing of hydraulics. I glanced back and saw Jazz. I gave a tight smile and he smirked back, the light from stars and streetlamps alike reflecting off his visor.

"He has issues," I remarked, turning back to watch Ironhide and Sam as Sam tried to convince the robot _not_ to kill the dog.

"Which one?" Jazz asked, humour apparent in his voice. I snorted.

"Take your pick," was my reply as Ironhide grumbled something about 'rusting' and apparent let the whole issue with the 'rodent' drop. Sam seemed to take this as his cue to get going before any body else got the idea of blowing things up and dashed through a forest of mechanical legs, stumbling over the wrecked fountain as he did so.

"Tropical hot!" he whisper yelled as he ran into his house with his rat-dog securely under his arm. At least, that's what I think he said. I had no idea what it was supposed to mean though.

The 'bots, Mikaela and I all stood there for a moment. I decided to voice what was evidently on everyone's mind.

"Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do now? Stand around like a bunch of really ugly garden gnomes?"

"Speak for yourself. As the ugliest one here I hardly think you get to judge," Jazz responded at the drop of hat, though I'm fairly sure he had no idea what a garden gnome actually was. That didn't mean I took being called 'ugly' too well.

"You're a smart ass, you know that right?" Was the best I could come up with. I know, I know, I was out of practice.

"I try," the silver 'bot replied tartly. I glared at him and he smirked again.

Wait! WAIT! Hold the phone folks! When exactly did I get 'friendly' with the goddamn alien that ran me over? I mean, come on! We were bickering like teenage delinquents. And yet, when I looked at him with this new revelation fresh in my eyes I couldn't help but realise that I wasn't nervous of him. Not like I was. Sure I was frightened of getting run over, and squished, and blown up and the list could probably go on, but the fact was that I wasn't frightened of his _being_ just what he could accidentally or intentionally do to my fragile, squishy little human body.

This folks, is what we call an emotional one-eighty.

I was given no more time to process what was going on as Optimus gave the order for the Autobots to recon the area. Prime must've been following the glimpses of Sam that flashed past the windows since he moved in that direction. Ratchet disappeared further around the building and Ironhide was trying to wipe the pee off his foot with one of the bushes in the garden. Bumblebee, obviously familiar with area, went low under the patio. I couldn't quite see but from what I did glimpse he wasn't doing any active reconnaissance; rather he was watching the television through the living room window.

I realised that I was one 'bot short with my counting and just as I came to that realisation there was a whirring and a hissing and then Jazz stepped clean over my head, causing me to gracelessly flail and dive out of the way, barking the skin of my knee on one of the broken pavers. I heard the robot chuckle as he moved away from me and I gave him the finger from where I sat like a sullen child on the ground. Goddamn robots.


	8. Author's Note

Author's Note

To those of you who have been so kindly waiting for the subsequent chapter which I simply _do not have,_ I wish to apologise. The bad news is that its not simply because I've been lazy. Nope, the bad news is that my Samsung Galaxy tablet has recently… shat itself. I paid for and downloaded all of the Michael Bay's Tranformers movies onto my tablet precisely so that I had was able to write this fic. That's a big deal for me since it used up ninety percent of the credit I had on my phone, which is supposed to last me for an entire month. Wait, let me rephrase that. It took ninety percent of my credit for every movie, so that's four months of hardly any credit on my phone and a pissed off mother absolutely wasted since my downloaded movies will no longer play 'without internet connection.' Uh, no. I did not waste a hundred and twenty dollars of phone credit and hours of my life for no reason.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm having a sulk. Because now I have no Transformers… and no A Thousand Roads to Nowhere…

So I'm really sorry but until Google play movies decides to resurrect itself and play nice, or until I manage to get the movie on DVD I won't be able to write anything for this. It sucks and I want to punch something. I even have the finale written out already and it's absolutely brilliant! I love it to bits!

But now you probably won't get to see it…

*WAILS*

I'm so sorry!

Forgive me?

~Dean

Contact me here in a review or Private Message if you wish, or Email me at aetheriusstorm97 at gmail dot com


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